Cold and Dark and Unafraid
by EnjolrasLovedEponine
Summary: "Wrong pocket." He said sternly. Strange how a failed pickpocketing attempt was what brought Eponine and Enjolras together, although not right away. From that faithful day their paths would cross over and over until they could never part again. But how long can they last as the flames of the revolution draws near? Musical based storyline. E/E
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is my first chapter story with Eponine and Enjolras. It follows the muical plotline, but instead of using the musical personalities of the characters, I chose to use Victor Hugo's character personalities. Well at least, I attempted to. You may envision the characters as you wish, but in my mind, Enjolras is Aaron Tveit and Eponine is Asia Argento from the French mini series. Why Asia? Because as I read the book, I pictured her as Eponine. She's a dark, ruthless woman while being so worthy and deserving of sympathy. And Aaron because he also resembles the Enjolras in the book, beautiful, blond hair, blue eyes, harsh as hell. Anyway, enjoy! Please read and review!**

She knew the streets better than most, a horrid place filled with thieves, beggars, whores—the life of the poor. They stole and they begged, sold themselves for mere sous, and at the end of the day they still waste away, waking to face the poverty in its cruel torture all over again.

Eponine Thenardier knew this routine as she knew the back of her hand, bracing herself each waking hour as she struggled to survive. She could handle it. She was strong-willed that way. But without her sister Azelma, each day seemed that much tougher, not to mention the beatings Eponine received. Together the Thenardier sisters used to split the beatings, but no longer since Azelma disappeared. Yet, without her, there was one less mouth to feed, to steal pockets for, and for that, Eponine was grateful even though she missed her sister dearly.

The gamine wandered the streets eyeing each passer-by, rich and poor, for easy pickings. Pockets that is, for their wallets. Thenardier—or Jondrette or whomever he was impersonating today—demanded she hold her keep and go to work, knowing his daughter wouldn't be able to rake in more than a couple francs if lucky. She was a money source and nothing more, a servant of the Patron-Minette.

Hours went by as she scurried around like a shadow, picking peoples' pockets and only came up with a single franc and a couple of sous. With only this to show for hours work, she knew her father would punish her. As she continued on her search, a bourgeois university student in maroon with curly blond hair caught her eye. Inwardly she smiled, he had to be carrying a decent amount of money. Silently she crept up to the unsuspecting man, her fingers itching inside his jacket's pocket. Her heart sank. Empty. Her hand retreated but then she was grabbed at the wrist and her heat leaped to her throat and her stomach churned. Blood faded from her face as the man stared down on her, his piercing blue eyes boring into her.

"Wrong pocket," he said sternly.

"I'm sorry Monsieur," Eponine replied hastily as she tried to flee into the safety of the crowd. He tightened his grip on her.

"Don't you think it's a bit foolish to be blindly reaching into strangers' pockets?" He asked, his tone cold.

How dare this man, this bourgeois have the gall to say such a thing? "When you're starving you don't have much of a choice now do you, Monsieur?" Eponine retorted.

The man could see the fire in her eyes, a vibrant ferocity that burned from her very core. "You don't know what it's like being poor, nibbling on crumbs, being hungry for days with barely a shirt to keep off the chill. We sleep on the streets while you kick us in the dirt." Her words dripped with venom.

He relinquished his grip on her, his eyes lightening and his features softening. "I can assure you I'm not one to do such a thing towards you and the rest of the suffering. And after the revolution you shall be free and no longer sleep on the streets."

Eponine's brow furrowed, "No. That silly revolution plan people are talking about can never change who we are. Nothing can change the plight of the poor. The rich, people like you, have no sympathy for us. There is no more kindness in this world."

He stared at her, this uncommonly intelligent street girl. But having no time to argue and defend his cause, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out five francs and handed them to her.

"No I can't take this. I don't want it. I don't _need_ it!" She tried to hand them back, but he stepped away, a faint smile on his face.

"Have a little more faith Mademoiselle." He turned to leave.

No one, especially from a higher class had ever called her Mademoiselle. It startled her greatly. "I can't keep this! I have no means to pay you back." She said.

He turned his head to face her, his eyes so kind from how they were before, "It is a gift." And he was gone.

At this Eponine was dumbfounded. A complete stranger showed her, an urchin, a worthless gamine, kindness. She stared down at the five francs, feeling them in her hand. She smiled lightly, shoved the coins in the pockets of her brown dress, and hurried back into the darkness.

Marius Pontmercy walked into the Café Musain, his green eyes shimmering with excitement, his smile stretched from ear to ear. He sat at the table amongst his friends and Combeferre eyed him quizzically.

"Marius, what has become of you? You've never looked so happy." He said.

"Some wine and say what's going on!" Grantaire managed not to slur despite he was already drunk and handed Marius a bottle.

Marius smiled lightly, "I walk by her nearly every day at the Luxembourg Garden. And each time I see her face, I feel my soul on fire!"

Grantaire choked on his liquor and let out a drunken laugh. "I am aghast! Is Marius in love at last? I've never heard him 'oooh' and 'aah'."

The Les Amis laughed at the love struck Marius as Enjolras remained uninterested sitting in his chair in the corner reading.

"You talk of battles to be won," Grantaire continued, gesturing to Enjolras who glanced at him with his eyes and an uncaring expression, "And here he comes like Don Juan. It is better than an opera!"

But as Marius continued on about the girl he was fawning over, the Lark he called her, Enjolras couldn't help but listen and grow more and more annoyed. Loving a woman was succumbing to a caged fate and those so strong and secure lose themselves. It turned men into fools as it has done so to Marius. Enjolras could never allow himself to love anyone other than his country. Patria was his only mistress, and his love for her was stronger than any man could give a woman. Soon enough Enjolras couldn't handle Marius's babbling, made his way to the group and sat next to him.

"It is time for use all to decide who we are." Enjolras was speaking directly to Marius, "We all know where we stand in this unjust society, but it's the poor that suffer the most! Have you asked yourselves the price you would pay for the rights of the people? We have a duty to our people to end suffering."

Marius didn't have to think before he answered, "Had you have been there you might know how it feels Enjolras! But how could you? All you love is your dear Patria."

Enjolras scoffed, "And you've been blinded by a woman. Who cares about your lonely soul? We're striving towards a larger goal; our little lives don't count at all."

"Come now Enjolras, don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?" Grantaire spoke, "Let Marius be. So he's in love. As long as he aids in the rebellion, who is he hurting?"

Enjolras didn't argue with him. Grantaire was right no matter how much he hated the drunkard. He then turned from his friends to go back to his reading. He wasn't about to continue the senseless conversation with Marius and could frankly care less if he was in love. As long as the Les Amis were faithful to their cause, the revolution, then Enjolras was grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

The Lark disappeared and was replaced by Epoinine. Marius had met her two weeks after the Lark vanished, and the sulking Marius couldn't be more annoyed. She was kind to him, Eponine, and he was to her, but each and every time they met, each generous walk home given by her, that hint of annoyance never faded. Eponine however was unaware of this and even more so unaware that their friendship was truly one sided. Marius never said anything cruel enough to make her understand this though only out of his own selfishness. The girl was a pretty one for an urchin, a scrawny thing, and she was also very smart. He needed her despite her aggravating ways. And so he asked her to meet him in the Café Musain at night.

Her eyes brightened, and she couldn't help but smile, "Of course Monsieur."

However, he failed to give her an exact time. Thinking nothing of it, the girl happily went to the café just as night came. As she entered, a strong, passionate voice could be heard from upstairs. It was going on about the revolution to come and was followed by enthusiastic cheers and applauses. Eponine made her way up, her expression riddled with both confusion and curiosity. The speaker was a tall, skinny man with blond, curly hair. A gang of men sat in front of him and listened intently, but as Eponine came up, they made glances and gestures toward her and the speaker stopped and turned.

Eponine's face flushed with embarrassment, "Monsieur!"

The speaker was the man she attempted to steal from nearly a month before. His deep blue eyes were ablaze with passion, but as he grew to recognize her as the witty gamine, his eyes lightened though he did no smile.

"Mademoiselle," he said calmly.

Eponine stared down at her fumbling hands, her face reddening even more as she tried to find her voice. "M-Monsieur Marius invited me here."

The man simply gestured to a chair next to the window, which she quickly took. He continued on with his speech as if she wasn't even there and after a good few minutes, he finished. Once having concluded the meeting, he retreated back to his own chair and picked up his book.

"What do you want Marius for?" Joly asked Eponine.

She shrugged, "He asked me to meet him here.'

"Are you his Lark?" Asked Grantaire as he took a large gulp of his liquor.

She shook her head, confused as to what he meant. Eventually the men asked for her name which she gave, and the seven of them in return told them theirs. Lesgle, Joly, Combeferre, Feuilly, Jean Prouvaire, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire. They explained of their plans of revolution and how they dream of a better future for the country, especially for people like her, the poor. Even though she was a bit out of sorts with her ragged brown dress and tangled hair, some dirt on her face as well, with the well off university students, she proved herself cunning and very smart. She knew more of the poor's plight than the rest of the Les Amis combined, and the gang both respected and pitied the girl for that. Though the man with is nose in his book appeared to be ignoring them, he too began to admire Eponine.

As the night dragged on and still no sign of Marius, one by on the gang departed. Eponine herself considered leaving, but she remembered the man, their leader still in his chair.

"I'm sorry." The girl surprised him as he lowered his book to see her standing before him.

"Excuse me?" He said, stunned.

Eponine's eyes were filled with sad regret. "I shouldn't have tried to steal from you Monsieur, not from someone as good and kind as you."

The man frowned, "It was a month ago. You only were doing what was necessary."

"The five francs were yours Monsieur. How could you give them to someone like me?"

He sighed, "They were a gift just as I told you. And it's Enjolras. Don't worry about the money. Eponine, was it?"

Her eyes lightened, and she felt her heart skip a beat, "So you were listening! You know my name! And you said my name Monsieur."

"Enjolras," He repeated, "And why wouldn't I call you by your name, Mademoiselle?" He smirked.

Eponine giggled lightly at his little remark, catching his joke. But quickly her eyes saddened, and she bit her bottom lip, "Monsieur Marius hasn't called me by my name yet."

Enjolras's eyebrows furrowed. How cruel of Marius to do such a thing. Was he so obsessed with is dear Lark that he lost respect for all other women? What a fool.

"He barely speaks to me," Eponine continued. "I'm both happy and confused as to why he asked me here."

Her eyes gleamed with sadness she did her best to conceal. But Enjolras saw right through her. Is Marius so thickheaded, so blind he couldn't see it? She's in love with him. She looked down on Enjolras and asked him gently, "Do you know anything Mon—I mean, Enjolras?" She corrected herself.

He shook his head, "No. To be perfectly honest, he hasn't been coming to the meetings as often. I don't know where he could be."

Eponine nodded and walked back to her seat at the window. She stared off into the night, and faithfully, she waited. Marius did not appear until nearly an hour later and when he did, Eponine stood to her feet and greeted him with a smile. He stood at the middle of the staircase, and she quickly came to meet him. "Have you happened to see an old man, a philanthropist many call him, and his daughter? He and his daughter hand out money to the poor." Marius said quietly and described the two to her. His eyes were dull and cold, no excitement in seeing her.

Eponine's smile faded, "And no 'hello'? Or 'I'm glad to see you?'"

"Come now, please just tell me if you know." Marius struggled not to roll his eyes in annoyance.

Her heart sank, and her expression transformed from glee to disappointment, "I may know. Is she a blonde bourgeoisie to-a-penny thing?"

Marius frowned, glaring at her, which made the poor girl both afraid and hurt. "She is my beloved lark. She is the reason why I need your help."

"What will you give me?"

"Anything!" His face brightened into a smile that reached his eyes, and her heart fluttered again. What a beautiful smile.

Eponine shrugged one shoulder and gave him a sly look, "Got you all excited now, but God knows what you see in her."

Marius began digging into his pockets for money, and she frowned, "No, I don't want your money sir." She began to descend down the stairs as Marius caught her arm. She looked back at him. "Do this for me. Discover where she lives, but do not let her father know. I'm lost until she's found!"

Eponine smiled half-heartedly, "I know my way around Monsieur Marius."

He smiled, "Oh thank you!" And he was gone.

And her smile too. "Little you know, little you care." She muttered.

She snuck a glance at Enjolras from between the pillars of where she stood on the stairs. He was engrossed by his book, and Eponine was thankful for that, leaving unaware Enjolras had been listening to everything. Even though Marius was a close friend, Enjolras still considered him a blind food. Eponine was willing to devote herself to him knowing he loved another. She was even going to lead him to her. Marius was an inconsiderate moron.

Eponine came often to the meetings Enjolras held, most of the time trailing behind Marius and others on her own accord. And when Marius wasn't around Eponine and Enjolras would often talk of his plans and she'd offer her knowledge. And although Enjolras—being the private man that he is—would never admit it, he enjoyed her company.

"Has Enjolras ever been able to handle talking to a woman this long?" Asked Lesgle.

"Never," Feuilly replied, "It's so strange considering he doesn't care much for a woman's presence."

Grantaire entered their conversation as he swung down his wine and burped, "Don't let him hear you!" He spoke loudly, trying to maintain his buzz, "He'll go on and on about his beloved Patria! She's so wonderful and beautiful, able to lure men to her call to fight for her! She is my only mistress!" He laughed as he mocked Enjolras and the others joined in.

Eponine and Enjolras glanced at them as they bellowed with laughter, unaware they had been making fun of their brave leader.

"You have such kind friends." Eponine stated.

"They're great companions and very loyal. I'm lucky to have them." He replied.

"Hmm." Was all Eponine could say. She wouldn't know his feelings of friendship and loyalty. How could she? She'd been alone all her life with an abusive father and all she had now was Marius.

Enjolras could see on her face that something was bothering her. It was Marius most likely. And the sad expression she bored caused his heart to ache for her. He pitied the lonely girl greatly. No one should be so mistreated as she is. He thought of placing a soothing hand on her shoulder to comfort her but decided against it; she wouldn't benefit from his touch.

"France really is the most important thing to you, isn't she?" Eponine asked with a hint of solemness.

Her question somewhat surprised Enjolras though he didn't have to think before answering. "Her future, yes. Every day I see so much injustice, so much suffering, and the rich continue to eat their cake as the poor wither away. It's true, I'm well off just as the rest of my friends. But we are the few willing to stand up for the poor, for you Eponine. A revolution is the only way to strive for change, to end this false light, this black mask of society."

"And martyrdom is the only way?" Eponine asked, her eyes pleading for the answer she had hoped.

He saw this in her eyes, and something in his heart told him not to tell her, not to say yes. But his love for Patria answered for him, "It is the only way to get the people to rise."

Eponine's heart sank.


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed before Eponine spotted the old man and the girl. She saw a beautiful woman, blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes, rich. No wonder Marius loved her. But she knew she'd seen that girl before. Blonde hair, she was known as the Lark by Marius. Cosette! The little homely girl from the inn she and her family took care of, slaved, was the one Marius was in love with. How could it be? And poor Eponine, look what's become of her. Karma had caught her in its trap. A spoonful of salt to her wounds.

Eponine followed the pair to 55 Rue Plumet. She smiled inwardly. Marius will be proud of her. And the smile he will give for his excitement to see his beloved, the smile not for her but still his smile, will be worth it, she tried to convince herself.

Marius was at a meeting with the Les Amis when Eponine came into the café. His eyes glowed with excitement and he quickly came to face her. "Did you find her?"

His smile wasn't worth it. Her heart sank and throbbed painfully. But of course he was too excited to see the pain behind her eyes. Enjolras could see it. He gave Eponine a parting smile as she and Marius fled down the stairs and raced towards the Rue Plumet. As they did Marius started to ramble on about his Lark as his excitement grew. And every word he said were daggers in Eponine. When they came to the gate, Cosette was there standing in her garden, and Marius's heart pounded against his ribcage and a smile reached his eyes. Eponine stepped back and listened as the two exchanged promises of love for one another, her heart utterly shattering, her face twisting in anguish.

After nearly an hour of the two together, Cosette and Marius parted due to her father's interference. He didn't notice Eponine behind the concrete pillar, her eyes sparkling with tears. Minutes later after Marius had gone, Thenardier and the Patron-Minette appeared, ready for a robbery.

"Who is this hussy?" Thenardier snarled as he spotted Eponine standing beside their intended target.

"It's your brat, Eponine. Don't you know your own kid? Why is she hanging about here?" Sneered Babet, his stout figure trotting along side Thenardier.

Irritated by her presence, Thenardier pulled his daughter to the side. "Get on home Eponine, you're not needed in this. We're enough here without you."

How could she allow her father to rob the house of the one Marius loved? He would be furious with her if he found out. "I know this house I tell you! There's nothing here for you. Just the old man and that girl." She pleaded.

He rolled his eyes, his face heating with frustration and anger, "You've got some gall. Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you! Now get out of here Eponine! Get out! You're in the way!"

"I'm gonna scream! I'll warn them here!" She threatened them with the police, her heart racing in a panic.

"One little scream and you'll regret if for a year!" Thenardier growled.

Despite his threat, Eponine gave out a loud screech well aware of the consequences.

"You'll rue this day my girl! I'll make you scream!" Thenardier roared.

In a quick act of fearlessness and bravery she spat in his face. Outraged, he swore, "You'll scream alright!" And he smacked her hard across the face, and she gave out a low, pain filled grunt. Just as soon as the police appeared, Eponine disappeared and Thenardier and the Patron-Minette dispersed and fled.

Slowly Eponine left the Rue Plumet, her head hung down, both fear and sorrow invading her heart. Could she go home? She knew what was awaiting her, a punishment worse than she'd ever received. And all for a man that never saw her. Will never see her. Her throat constricted as she fought to hold back the sobs scratching at her throat. She wandered through the streets of Paris, the rain pounding down on her, soaking her to the bone. The rain turned the pavement silver, the trees were full of starlight that danced and turned misty in the Seine River. And Eponine was on her own.

"Do you miss me?" His voice whispered in her ear.

"More than anything." Eponine muttered miserably.

She could feel Marius's arms wrap around her from behind, and a melancholy thrill overcame her. Her eyes closed, and she could almost smile. He held her gently, held her still for what felt like minutes. And she was warm.

"I'm not yours." He told her calmly.

Her heart felt like it stopped beating, slowly she opened her eyes to reveal streets full of strangers. He was gone. He was never with her. And she was so cold. Tears brimmed in her eyes again, and she did her best to calculate where she was. She stood in front of the Café Musain. Desperate for a safe haven, she rushed into the café and up the stairs to find Enjolras alone and scribbling something on paper.

He looked up at the drenched Eponine and could see a bruise forming on her left cheek. What happened?

"I'm sorry," she struggled to hold back her tears, "I didn't know anyone was in here."

She turned to leave, but her legs wouldn't let her. Instead she slumped to the floor and chocked out sobs as she hugged her sides, attempting to control herself in vain.

"Eponine," Enjolras approached her, his own heart aching at the sight of her crying. How could Marius be so dense? She was suffering, and he could not see. Or he refused to. At this Enjolras felt the anger boil up in him. He knelt down beside her, unsure of how to comfort her. He desperately wanted to ease her pain, and in a feeble attempt to do so, he placed a strong hand on her shoulder. He could feel her relax somewhat under his hand though the tears did not stop. Neither said anything to each other, Eponine too distraught to do so and Enjolras too inexperienced with the matters of the heart. But then the shaking girl rose to her feet, wiping away her face to rid the tears. She turned to Enjolras who was still knelt down on the floor, staring up at her, his eyes searching hers to bring any form of comfort.

"Thank you for your kindness. I don't deserve it." She said meekly and left before he could stop her. The room became cold when she departed, and an unmistakable grief overtook him. He didn't want her to leave. Not his side. She shouldn't have to face the darkness alone.


	4. Chapter 4

She was smart enough not to head home. She avoided the streets near her home and searched for a place to sleep that wasn't covered with filth. Finally she found a place away from the stench of the poor, up against the leg of the towering stone elephant. She curled up against it, wrapping her arms around herself and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to take hold as the rain poured on her.

"Eponine? Eponine," a child's voice called for her. When she didn't wake the child shook her.

Eponine awoke, her eyes blurred and her body stiff. The child before her was no more than 12, with dark brown hair matted under his hat and deep brown eyes. She recognized him immediately despite the face she hadn't seen him in years. Her little brother. "Gavroche?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you home?" Gavroche asked, hoping she wasn't away for the reasons he thought, but when she turned her head to face him, it was clear that he was right. The dark bruise on her cheek said all.

"What did you do to get that?" The little gamin snapped, angry with her. "You're the oldest, you know better! Where's Azemla?"

"I don't know, "Eponine replied bitterly, "It's been so long, Gavroche."

He knelt down beside his sister, his anger and disappointment in her melting away. He shouldn't have blamed her. He knew as well as her that their father was an unpredictable tyrant. So he hugged his sister. "It's been a while." He muttered.

"I never blamed you for leaving," Eponine whispered thoughts she'd been meaning to say for so long, "I know I was never the best sister Gavroche, but I do love you."

The boy let her go and gave her a look that meant he understood. Though he'd never admit it, he did love his sister and missed her frequently. He was glad to see her.

"You hungry?" He asked and she nodded.

He pulled out of his picket bits of stale black bread and handed them to her, "Here."

Grateful, she took the now soggy bread lumps, "What about you?"

He shook his head, "You eat 'em. You look worse than I do."

Eponine gave out a slight chuckle before she ate the mouthful. Though her stomach repeatedly gave her pangs of hunger, the bread seemed to almost soothe her. How she hated being hungry.

The next night, Enjolras and the rest of the Les Amis were relaxing, talking here and there about the revolution. But as they chatted, Enjolras's mind wandered off to Eponine. The poor girl was so distraught last he saw her, and he wanted nothing more than to bring comfort to her. Underneath her ragged clothes and dirt spotted face, she was a beautiful girl and intelligent as well. She was devoted and kind, and those times when she did smile, it brightened his days. And yet, she suffered so. She suffered alone.

"Enjolras," Courfeyrac snapped him out of his thoughts, "What's wrong with you?"

"What are you talking—" Grantaire cut Enjolras off before he could finish.

"Isn't it obvious?" Grantaire took a swallow of his wine and continued, "Our fearless leader is in love!"

Enjolras shot a glare at the drunkard, "Comments like that should be kept to yourself wine-cask."

Grantaire laughed obnoxiously, "Come on my friend, I've been in love many times to know what it looks like. You, Enjolras have it written all across your face! No longer the man of marble are you, dear Apollo?"

Enjolras scoffed, "My only love is Patria, and you all know that."

Jean Prouvaire spoke this time, a smirk growing on his face, "Of course you'd deny your feelings. But you'll see Enjolras. Soon you'll give in and accept it. You're in love, and it's not going to disappear so you might as well embrace it."

"Think what you may, but my heart belongs to France." He snapped stubbornly.

"Who is she Enjolras?" Grantaire mocked, "Who is the woman that stole your heart?"

Enjolras stood to his feet, his expression heated and his hands in fists. Not willing to put up with their pointless accusations, he left the café.

Early that morning, Gavroche and Eponine had parted ways, having no necessary need to stay together. Gavroche also didn't want to be around in case their father appeared for Eponine. And when nightfall came, she wandered about aimlessly as the rain came down on her again just as the night before, all alone again.

As she walked, an older man approached her. He was balding, missing a couple teeth due to rotting, and his breath reeked of alcohol. He grabbed her by the arm as she tried to pass by.

"How much?" He asked, his breathing thick and heavy.

She glared at him, "Let me go! I'm no whore!"

The man eyed her closely, "10 sous. You're not worth more than that."

Infuriated, she snatched her arm away and clawed him across his cheek, ripping away his flesh, leaving behind drops of blood. He gasped and coward back in drunken shock. She then kicked him in the groin to redeem herself further from his cruel insult. She preceded her walk in solitude as she shook off the words that man spat her way. Turning the corner, she headed down the street, the shadows of the night seemed as if they were closing in on her. Never before had the darkness been so intimidating.

"Eponine." A deep voice croaked out her name. She knew that voice.

She turned her head to see a tall man with black hair approach her, Montparnasse, alongside her father. Her face turned white as death, ad her stomach dropped. But without the rest of Thenardier's gang, surely the punishment wouldn't be as bad. She tried to convince herself this, but her hope vanished when she realized the both of them were drunk. Her beatings were always so much worse when they were drunk.

"Babet, Gueulemer, and Claquesous were arrested because of you," 'Parnasse said in a drunken slur.

Before Eponine had the chance to get away, Thenardier had caught her, gripping her tight enough to bruise her. "You've forgotten your place my dear," he said, retrieving his pocketknife and raising it to her face. "You need another lesson."

As he spoke, Montparnasse grabbed her from behind and roamed her body with his large, calloused hands as he sniffed her hair. She cringed and screamed into the darkness. The rain turned the pavement from silver to rubies.


	5. Chapter 5

Enjolras could faintly hear screams as he desperately searched for the source. He turned down so many streets, nearly slipping on the slick cobblestone. Even once the scrams had stopped he was bent on finding the suffering soul. He turned the corner and saw a dark figure lying on the ground. There was no one around. As he approached the crumpled form, he could slowly make out the body of a woman, her dark hair mangled across her face. He stroked the hair out of the woman's pale face, and his eyes widened as his heart lurched to his throat. Eponine. As he stared in shock at her body, he saw the dark liquid in the water. Blood. So much blood. Her blood. Frantically, he pressed his head against her chest. There was a faint heartbeat, and Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief.

"Eponine," he said, cradling her in his arms, hoping she'd wake. She didn't. Gingerly, he rose to his feet, unconcerned about her blood soaking his clothes. She was so light it was unsettling. Her eyes remained shut, she did not stir in his arms, and she was mumbling incoherently. As quickly as he could, he made his way back to the Café Musain.

"Joly! Joly!" Enjolras called out.

Joly appeared at the top of the stairs, "What is it—Eponine?"

"She's been hurt. She needs your help." Enjolras stared up at him earnestly.

Joly nodded, made his way down the stairs, and they raced through the drenched streets of Paris to Enjolras's apartment. When they finally made it, they barged in, and Enjolras placed her on the sofa and Joly examined her. A deep gash started at the nape of her neck and stretched to the corner of her armpit. As the pair removed her dress after retrieving the first aid kit, Joly wrapped her breasts in cloth to preserve her dignity as he began to work on her. She was covered in deep purple bruises, some in the form of hands, scars and cuts old and fresh on her arms and torso and a long with the gash on her chest, there was an even longer one that stretched from her ribcage a few inches below her left breast down her waist. Enjolras couldn't bear to look at her. He left Joly to his work and closed the door to his bedroom and sat on his bed with his head in his hands. Millions of thoughts bombarded his mind as worry tore at his heart. All he wanted most was to see her well, open her eyes and smile. Dear God, let her live.

After hours of waiting Joly finally allowed Enjolras to see her.

"Her wounds, as serious as they are, aren't fatal," the medical student explained, "None of her muscles were severed and I was able to stitch her wounds shut." Despite the good news, Joly's voice was still heavy and grave.

"She's also suffered a couple of broken ribs, but as long as she doesn't overexert herself, they'll heal alright."

"That isn't all is it?" Enjolras asked coolly.

"Enjolras," He started slowly, "She shows signs of having been brutally raped." Enjolras kept his expression as calm as possible but couldn't control the rage building up inside him.

"It'll take time for her to heal," Joly continued, "She won't be able to move about much for a while."

Enjolras nodded and glanced at Eponine who slept. Some of her color had returned and her lips moved as if she were struggling to speak. "She's been calling for Marius," Joly clarified.

Enjolras tensed as the throngs of jealousy seeped into his heart. Why Marius? He doesn't ever care for her! Why… Why not him?

"So no more meetings for a while huh?" Joly asked playfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

Enjolras smiled lightly, "Thank you for your help."

"If you need any assistance, don't hesitate. "And with that, Joly left.

The pain was unbearable. She felt as if she was being stabbed with millions of burning knives, and yet she couldn't open her eyes. But soon after, she felt nothing. She was numb. "Am I dead?" She thought to herself. The darkness that surrounded her was perpetual it seemed. And yet from somewhere beyond the darkness, she could hear a voice. Was it Marius? Would she ever see him again? But as what felt like an eternity had gone by, Eponine could feel herself becoming warm, comfortable even. Safe. And a voice whispered her name, a gentle, lovely voice she recognized anywhere. Enjolras.

The night hadn't died yet when slowly, Eponine's eyes opened. And as if right on cue, her whole body ached and any little movement sent splinters of pain throughout her body. She shut her eyes and whimpered as she waited for the pain to diminish to bearable and once it did, she opened her eyes again to realize she'd been laying on someone else's couch in someone else's apartment and surrounded by bookshelves filled with books. There was even a cluttered mess of papers and books on the person's desk, she noted. How had she gotten here to be wrapped in such warmth and comfort? That was when the nightmare of the night's ordeal clouded her memory. She didn't need to look at herself to know where her wounds and bruises were. Her face twisted in shame, pain, and sorrow, shaking her head as tears trickled down her the sides of her face into her hair.

That was when she noticed Enjolras sitting beside her in an armchair, his eyes closed in deep sleep. He'd been beside her this whole time. He was the one that saved her and for that she was eternally grateful. But as she stared at him while he slept, she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was and she was envious of his placid sleep. His hair curled over the sides of his forehead, his locks shimmered gold in the candlelight, which tossed about shadows on his face, giving off an angelic glow. She marveled at his features, right down to the dimple on his chin covered with stubble just as on his upper lip. Lightly, he began to stir, waking from sleep, and Eponine turned from him, her cheeks heating and turning a rosy hue. He gave out a yawn and glanced at Eponine who lay on her back, her face turned towards the sofa.

"Eponine," he whispered gently.

She looked at him, pretending to wake from sleep, "Enjolras?"

He stood from his chair and knelt next to her, his steely blue eyes staring into her brown, nearly black ones in the dim light, filled with the utmost warmth and concern. They were beautiful. "How are you feeling?"

She arched her eyebrow, her expression saying, "Do you need to ask?" Instead of answering him, she came with a question of her own. "You brought me here?"

Enjolras nodded, smiling lightly, "I did. I couldn't leave you in the street. And you don't need to worry. Joly said your wounds weren't fatal and that you'll be fine as long as you rest here a while."

Her brow furrowed and she lifted the blanket off of her to reveal her chest wrapped in cloth and her gashes covered in bloody gauze. Wrapping herself in the blanket again, she averted her eyes, fire and intensity, back to Enjolras, "You undressed me?" Her tone was fierce, frightening.

Enjolras tensed, attempting to compose himself and his flushed cheeks. "We had no other choice Eponine." He spoke calmly, "You would have bled to death if we didn't."

"You had no right! While I was helpless, unconscious, the both of you, you Enjolras, took advantage of my vulnerability!" She was reacting on pure emotion, not logic. She was too ashamed and embarrassed to think clearly.

But at her retort, Enjolras was more hurt than offended. Is that what she thought? That they, he took advantage of her? Her words stung, and his eyes softened, unable to look at her. "Is that what you think?" He muttered, "That we took advantage of you?"

Eponine's breathing hitched and she could see her words had hurt him. Immediately her anger transformed to guilt. "You didn't?"

His eyes darted up to glare at her, "Why would we? Why would I? How could you think so low of me when all I've ever done was help you?"

She said nothing. She couldn't find her voice. He was right. How could she accuse him of such a thing when all he'd ever done was show her kindness? She looked away from him, ashamed.

Enjolras sighed, seeing he wasn't going to get a response from her. "Are you hungry? He asked instead, trying to remove the tension from the room.

She turned back to him, "Oh, no, I couldn't. I've already overstayed my welcome and offended you in the process. You shouldn't waste any more on me."

"Waste? I'm not wasting anything on you." He told her, his eyes sincere. "You need help Eponine. I'm giving it to you and expect, want nothing in return."

"I have not means to repay you." She replied.

He was slowly becoming aggravated. "Were you not listening to me? I want nothing from you."

"I shouldn't be taking up your time here. You're taking care of me because of my mistakes! I can't stay here any longer." She said stubbornly, struggling to rise up but he stopped her.

"You need help! I won't let you walk out on the streets." He was just as relentless as she was.

"But—"

"Eponine! Enough." He silenced her, leaving her startled, "This is my home. You will stay here until you are well. You can eat what you want and sleep on my couch and wash up and anything else you please with no charge. You are my guest and a dear friend and you owe me nothing."

He then stood and walked into the kitchen, placing some bread and cheese on a plate and carried it out to Eponine. Slowly she moved on her side, wincing a little as she did, and he handed her the plate. She ate greedily, swallowing as much as she could before taking another large bite. She then looked up to see Enjolras standing above her watching her eat.

She blushed bright red and swallowed. "I'm sorry. Do you want some?"

He shook his head, "No you eat. You need it."

He didn't have to ask her twice. As she gobbled down her food, he walked over to the first aid kit and took out a couple sheets of gauze. He retreated to the kitchen again and quickly reappeared with a bowl full of water and a cloth.

"Eponine," Enjolras spoke gently, "I'm going to need you to life off the blanket."

Her brow arched as she stared at him skeptically.

"I need to change the gauze," he explained, "If I don't your wounds might become infected. I promise you Eponine, I do not intend to take advantage of you. Not ever. I am sincere to my word and faithful to your trust and wouldn't do anything to upset you or hurt you on purpose. Will you please let me treat you?" No once did he avert his eyes from hers. And within his eyes Eponine felt safe and cared for. She nodded, "Alright."

He removed the blanket from her and stared down at her frail body. It wasn't just the wounds on her that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand, it was how skinny she was. The grooves between her ribs were well defined and she was incredibly pale. But yet as he stared, he couldn't help but blush at the sight of her, beautiful Eponine.

Gingerly, he removed the gauze that covered the wound on the side of her stomach, wet the cloth and damped the long gash to clean the stitching from the little amounts of blood that managed to seep from it. Eponine hadn't flinched from his touch, he noticed and that relieved him. He then replaced the bloody gauze with the fresh and moved up her torso to repeat the process on the other wound.

As he worked, he could feel her eyes on him and yet felt no discomfort towards her even though he dared not look at her for reasons he couldn't explain.

"Your hands are shaking," Eponine said with a tender calmness.

Enjolras's heart skipped a beat. "I'm afraid of hurting you," he replied although he wasn't entirely sure himself if that was the true reason, hoping she wouldn't notice the pink in his cheeks.

"Hmmm, " her voice still so calm and sweet, "I trust you. You have given me your word after all."

At that he had to look at her. A sad smile framed her face; oh how he wished he could make her smile true. It took him a coupled seconds to realize he had been staring, and he stood to his feet, his heart racing as he fumbled for her blanket to avoid her mesmerizing face.

"Are you all right?' She asked, genuinely concerned.  
He gave her a quick glance and nodded. "Do you need anything else?"

Eponine shook her head, her eyes beginning to droop for sleep. A lot of her energy was absorbed into healing her body, and it was taking a lot out of her as Enjolras could see.

Hesitant at first, he placed a gentle hand on her hair. "Sleep," he whispered and left her side for his bedroom. Though it was easy enough for Eponine to succumb back to sleep, Enjolras lay in bed wide awake, his hands folded back behind his head.

His mind was racked with thoughts of Eponine and the more he thought of her, the began to realize that not once had he thought of his beloved Patria. He focused so much on Eponine that it terrified him. The revolution seemed only to be a distant memory though it was just around the corner. Eponine had taken over his heart so quickly he'd become so uncertain of himself and his revolution. All that concerned him now was dear Eponine and her well-being. More than anything, he waned her blithe smile again.


	6. Chapter 6

Eponine awoke late that morning feeling more refreshed than she had in a while despite her sore body. She tried to sit up but decide against it when pain shot through her again. Sighing in annoyance, she looked about her, and sitting beside her on the nightstand was a plateful of food and a note from Enjolras.

"_Eponine,_

_I've gone to my classes and will be back soon. Enjoy your meal and think nothing of it. I also have taken the liberty of discarding your dress for obvious reasons and have left you clothes that no longer fit me. They may not be a dress but they're better than being bare. I'll see you soon._

_Enjolras_"

She glanced at his clothes on the desk and smiled lightly, happy he'd taken the time to write her a note to keep her from worrying and for his generosity. She then took the plate of food and indulged herself; she'd forgotten what it felt like to not feel hungry anymore, how great the sensation. Once she finished breakfast, she couldn't bring herself to rise, her sore body unable to move. Looks like I'll be bear another day, she thought though she didn't mind too much as long as she remained covered by the blanket. Boredom began to invade her mind as she lay on the sofa. So she allowed her mind to wander, her thoughts drifting from Gavroche and how he was to the Les Amis and their plans for the revolution. She even began to think of Marius. Was he aware of what had befallen her? Was he worried for her? Did he care? No, she thought sullenly. Cosette was all that ever mattered to him, the only one he could see and care for. But as she thought of him, the familiar heartache she'd become so acquainted with didn't sting as much as usual. It surprised her. She didn't hurt as much but for what reason? What was dulling unrequited love's poison? She knew the answer and it horrified yet uplifted her. Enjolras. His kindness, his unmatched passion and devotion to France, he who has heard the poor's plight and is willing to die for his cause, for them. Everything about him was beautiful and although her heart swelled at the thought of him, not far behind were the shadows of doubt and fear.

Enjolras returned home in the early afternoon to find Eponine where he had left her, laying on the sofa.

"Welcome home," She smiled lightly.

He smiled back, removed his jacket and tossed it to the side. "How was your morning?"

She sighed, "Well despite waking up in pain and then being unable to do anything to relinquish my boredom, I had a fairly nice morning," She answered, her lips pulling to a smug smile.

He smirked at her witty remark and walked over to his desk to organize his jumbled mess of books and papers, his clothes still hanging from the desk.

"You aren't dressed." He stated, "Would you like my help?" Thinking nothing what he said.

Eponine blushed, "No, don't worry about me. I'll dress later."

"Alright. Is there anything you need Mademoiselle?" He asked, expecting another whimsical reply from her.

"Will you read to me Monsieur?" Eponine answered with utter sincerity.

Enjolras turned to her and saw in her expression, her chestnut orbs gleaming with a hint of sadness. Though a smile framed her face, her eyes still shown the unmistakable sorrow that she could not hide. She was lovely when she was melancholy. He wondered how beautiful she'd be when she was happy, truly.

His eyes were soft and his lips curled slightly as he nodded. He walked over to the bookshelf and plucked the book riddled with creases, and sat in his chair as close as he could to Eponine so that she may follow along as he read. He read to her for hours.

It took Eponine a week to be able to stand up on her own. Her wounds had closed, the scabs fresh but the pain was there within her, faint but still. Over the next couple days, Eponine would sneak away while Enjolras was at his classes. She wandered the streets just as she had done before, picking pockets for as much money as she could before Enjolras returned home. She knew his daily schedule and made sure she always returned to his apartment before he did and each time he would come home to find her either reading or in the washroom bathing.

But what would Eponine gain from sneaking away everyday while Enjolras was gone? Her guilt and shame were what drove her away. Enjolras had given her everything, her, a woman of the gutter, a gamine and asked for nothing in return. But how could she sit by and allow him to lavish her while she had nothing to give? She couldn't. She had to repay him despite his wishes because as good a person as him deserved it.

When she returned to Enjolras's apartment one day, she carried with her 13 sous. She hid them under the cushions of the sofa, which were now all together 50 sous under the course of five days. It wasn't enough. Not enough for Enjolras. This fueled her anger, her shame, to not be able to give him what he's due, what she felt he was due, some unreachable number she'd do all in her power to achieve for him. She had to make enough so that she may be good enough for Enjolras.

But Enjolras hadn't returned at his usual time as she expected. Where was he? What was he doing? She couldn't go out to look for him, she wouldn't know where to go and look. He had to return sometime though. This was his home after all. And so she waited as patiently as she could, fighting her wandering mind.

Her patience paid off when Enjolras entered the apartment at nightfall, a smile framing his face, his deep blue eyes gleaming with excitement. Eponine quickly stood from the sofa, her expression riddled with curiosity and confusion but she didn't say a word.

He walked over and placed his books on his desk and removed his bag from his shoulder. He turned to face her, his smile relentless as he leaned against the desk. "I have something for you. It's a gift."

Eponine arched a brow and crossed her arms. She wasn't particularly fond of gifts, anything she'd have to repay him. He chuckled at her, expecting nothing less from the self-asserting girl. He pulled out an elegant velvet dress of crimson red.

"Something for you to wear other than my clothes." He said.

As Eponine's eyes widened, his charming smile grew. "I know you don't take much to gifts, but please, will you wear it for me?"

A blush came across her face almost as red as the dress. She approached him and took the dress in her hands, her eyes shining, lips curling. She nodded to him and scurried off into the washroom with her dress to change. When she emerged, she stared down at herself, her hands feeling about the softness, transfixed on the fabric that conformed to her so well. How long had it been since she wore something so beautiful? Not even the dresses she had when she lived at the inn could compare. She walked over to the mirror and gazed upon herself in awe. For so long she'd looked at herself through puddles in the street and dirty windows, feeling disgusted with the dirt covered face that stared back. But as she stared into the mirror, she saw the beauty that had been hidden away. The sleeves of the dress slipped just below her shoulders, and since she had been with Enjolras she no longer looked sickly and malnourished. The dark brown hair on top of her head had been cleaned and brushed, the locks shimmering with health. Dirt no longer spotted her pale face and the bruises on her neck, chest, and arms had all but faded. She could almost pass for a bourgeoisie. Almost.

Enjolras had always seen the beauty behind the gamine but never had she looked so beautiful. He was stunned and his heart thudded in his chest despite his calm demeanor. He walked over to the girl and she nervously tucked the lock in her face behind her ear, unable to look at him.

"No, don't." He took the lock in his fingers and moved it back to dangle in front of her face, "You look beautiful."

Her cheeks turned pink and she bit her lip, avoiding his eyes. "Thank you Enjolras," she whispered, "But—"

"No buts," He said, "There are no strings attached. There is no debt. I want nothing from you in return. Just your smile."

Eponine looked up at him, and he smiled causing her heart to flutter. Tenderly he kissed her forehead. It only lasted a moment or two but it was enough to petrify her and leave her speechless. He smiled then left her for his chamber, and she watched him go, feeling cold as the warmth of his touch faded.

Enjolras awoke the next morning to an empty apartment. Eponine was gone. She had discarded her dress and left it on his desk and resting on top of it were the 50 sous she stole for him. There was no note, the clothes he gave her, gone. Never had he felt more betrayed, more hurt. She left him without a word, leaving him to taste the bitterness of love's sting. Now he knew how Eponine felt whenever Marius hurt her. The world was cold and he felt transparent. Had living with him really been so terrible? The only reason she stayed so long was because of her wounds. Maybe she'll return, he told himself. No, she had taken her clothes and left without informing him with only meek sous to atone for her behavior. What a cruel woman, that gamine.


	7. Chapter 7

The night he had given her the dress, Eponine found it difficult to sleep. It would take her a lifetime to repay him for the dress. He had spent his money on her, worthless little Eponine. His kindness and her shame she felt deep inside her like a knife. Oh how it tortured her. But as sleep closed in on her, she reminded herself of Marius. Enjolras and Marius, two completely different people. Marius had never been nice to the unhappy girl, but she would do anything for him. And Enjolras had been nothing but gentle and patient with her, a kindness she didn't deserve.

Guns were fired and spat out sparks. The barricade had been raised, and the red flag stood at the helm. It had come at last, the revolution. The Les Amis fought the oncoming French army, blood everywhere and mangled corpses. Marius had climbed the barricade, a barrel of gunpowder and a torch in his grip, ready to sacrifice himself for him friends. An enemy marksman had Marius in his sights, so close, ready to kill.

"Marius!" She found herself calling.

The gunshot rang out and pierced through her chest. Eponine couldn't cry out in pain, but she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. As she fell back from the barricade, the world around her faded to black as her heart continued to pound against her eardrums. As quickly as the darkness appeared, it faded away, and she could see Marius walking away from her, abandoning her after having stepped in front of a gun for him. She lay limp on the stone floor, feeling the warmth of her blood leave her. She couldn't call out to him. This was the end. And she felt the life leaving her. But as the world faded for good, she heard a faint voice she couldn't distinguish call her name. And the life left her eyes.

Eponine awoke in a cold sweat, tears trickling down her cheeks. It was only a dream. But it felt so real, every sensation so vivid. And Marius, he left her to die. How could he? She wiped away her tears and tried to relax her quivering breath.

So that was it. Her nightmare, it was the final push. Her life meant nothing. Not even dying for love, for Marius, will make her amount to anything. Enjolras shouldn't have to waste anymore on her. She won't be a bother to anyone anymore. She rose from the sofa and stripped of the dress, putting on the clothes Enjolras had given her and laid the dress on the desk. She then took the sous from underneath the couch and placed them on the dress. She didn't look back as she closed the door behind her.

She walked through the dark streets of Paris, avoiding the alleys and anyone that may come in contact with her. She contemplated heavily on visiting Marius. Would he be glad to see her? She shook the thought away woefully, the ache of Marius invading her heart once again, and continued on her walk. She reached her destination, standing on the bridge above the Seine River. The wind blew through her hair, the night crispy and cold, as she placed her hands on the concrete railing to gaze into the water's dark abyss. Do it. Jump you disgusting creature. You've thought of it so many times before, even told Marius about it. Go on, you have nothing to keep you here. Throw yourself in the Seine. Then your debt to Enjolras wouldn't matter anymore and the suffering from your father, from Marius, from the life of the poor, won't be able to touch you. The afterlife is waiting. Jump pathetic girl.

Eponine sucked in the air, ready to heave and through herself to the river.

"Eponine?" She closed her eyes, hoping he'd let her be.

"Eponine!" He called fiercely, approached her and pulled her away from the ledge.

"What do you think you're doing?" The little gamin snapped.

"Gavroche, please," she muttered, staring at the ledge as if it were calling to her.

The boy's anger and disappointment grew, "Are you really that weak? How could you stop fighting? You're a fool Eponine!"

She remained silent, her eyes cold and unfeeling.

"Eponine!" Gavroche growled, "You're no better than a whore if you jump! You're a selfish sister! How could you think to abandon me?"

She turned to him, his expression was pure rage although she could see the stings of betrayal and shame in his eyes. It hurt her to see him so upset.

"I'm so sorry Gavroche. I'm sorry for hurting you. Be angry with me as long as you wish, but please dear brother, please forgive your fool of a sister!" Eponine begged.

The crease in his forehead did not cease, "You always react on emotion, and yet you forget about how others might feel!"

She embraced him. How could she think of suicide knowing her brother's love? No matter how much she hated herself, she couldn't abandon him. "I'm truly sorry Gavroche. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. I shouldn't have acted so rashly. I won't do it again. Forgive your foolish sister."

He hugged his sister back, "Promise me you won't throw your life away."

"I promise." And the two let go of each other.

Brother and sister walked in silence together through Paris until they reached the Elephant. There the young boy confided in her that he had decided to join the revolution. He had made friends with most of the Les Amis, especially the boy named Courfeyrac, not expecting her to know whom he was talking about although she already knew the Les Amis. She dared not try to convince him to stay away from the revolution to come, being a woman and having no say in what men did. She herself even considered joining the rebellion but Gavroche could never know.

Two weeks had gone by. Enjolras had continued on with his classes and with his plans for the revolution with his friends at the Café Musain. With Eponine gone, Patria became his priority again, and he focused all his energy on her. Yet every night when he came home, he half expected to find Eponine lying on his couch. It made him sad to know she was gone.

When the morning came, Enjolras made his way over to the university just as he had, his thoughts solely on the revolution, and Combreferre, Joly, and Courfeyrac met up with him. He could see the excitement in their eyes, eager to greet him with their news.

"Enjolras! Did you hear?" Courfeyrac asked.

Enjolras blinked, confused, "Hear what?"

"It's General Lamarque!" Said Combreferre.

Enjolras was growing annoyed quickly, having not received a frank answer. "What about him?"

"He's sick and dying." Joly answered.

Enjolras could feel the excitement rush through him despite the sad news, "How long does he have?"

"At most a week." Said Joly.

The passion and anticipation was intense in Enjolras's eyes. "After our classes get everyone together, including Marius. There will be a meeting in front of the general's house. Gather the people! The time is near my friends."

Just as Enjolras had instructed, the Les Amis including Gavroche who was on Courfeyrac's back, had met in front of General Lamarque's home bringing a crowd of unhappy people with them.

"When's it gonna end?" An angry man within the crowd shouted.

"When are we gonna live?" Came another.

"We're tired of struggling! We're tired of being hungry!" Yelled a woman, "Does no one hear the little ones crying?"

"Where are the leaders of the land?" Enjolras's passionate, eloquent voice called the people to silence as they listened. "Where is the king who runs this show?"

"The only one of us, General Lamarque, fights for the people here bellow!" Came Marius.

"But dear Parisians," Enjolras continued, "Lamarque is ill and fading fast. Won't last a week or so they say! And with all the anger in the land, how long before the judgment day? Before we cut the fat ones down to size!"

The crowd gave out a cheer. "Death to the king!" Shouted some amongst the crowd.

"Vive la France!" Came others.

"Before the barricades arise!" Enjolras called out and the crowd irrupted in roars of anger and agreement, calling for the revolution. And within the crowd, he thought he saw Eponine.

She was there as the crowd gathered around General Lamarque's house but didn't know the reason why. All she knew was the people were angrier than normal, clamoring and shouting to be heard. But then she froze when she saw Marius and Enjolras take their stands to gather the people for their speech. But who was it that caused her heart to stop? Marius or Enjolras? She ignored the pain in her heart and listened to the men's words as the crowd roared and cheered. Enjolras's eyes grazed over the crowd and just before they could reach hers she ducked away and disappeared.

Just as predicted, General Lamarque died within the week on the fifth day. He was the people's man, the hero of the poor. As the final insult, to pass the general off as his hero, King Louis Philippe arranged a funeral for the people's man due in two days. The citizens of Paris and all across France were outraged.

When night had fallen, the night before the funeral and the start of the revolution, Eponine wandered about alone as usual. Her stomach growled and her skin crawled against the cold; she missed the comfort and warmth of Enjolras's apartment. He had spoiled her, which caused her shame to grow. Eponine missed seeing his eager face whenever he came home, his kind heart that made her feel more than just a street girl; Eponine missed his eyes the most. She became lost in thought as a man rushed towards her. From within the darkness she still could catch a glimpse of who he was. The closer he came, her heart began to race and she began to smile; he was coming to her. They were two feet from each other. And then he passed her. She turned around to watch him go, her face transforming to disappointment.

"Monsieur Marius!" She called.

His footsteps hindered, and he turned back to face her confused at first and then he blinked in recognition, "Oh you! Why are you dressed like that?"

"I couldn't find my dress," She said simply, lying. Enjolras had thrown the tattered, bloody thing away weeks ago.

"Oh. I see. Well I must be going. I have no time to talk." Marius said and started walking.

"Wait," Eponine went to catch up with him, "Where are you headed Monsieur?"

"Cosette has moved to another home and left me directions where to find her." He said.

Pain struck her heart again.

"Is there something that you want?" Marius said curtly, slowly becoming annoyed by her presence.

"Am I not allowed to join you on your walk?" She asked.

"I'd prefer to walk alone."

"Monsieur Marius, are you upset with me? Do you not like me?" Eponine's heart thudded, her nerves beginning to grow.

He simply said nothing. She could see in his cool leaf eyes that she was not needed or valued for that matter. His silence said all. He cared not for her at all, only his dear Cosette. He then suddenly stopped and faced her, his eyes hard, expression serious. "I appreciate all you have done to bring me to Cosette. But now that I have her, we no longer need to associate with each other. Farewell."

And he walked away leaving her broken, her eyes brimming with tears she could not, would not let fall. She watched as he turned the corner and vanished before she headed in the opposite direction to get as far away from him as possible.

Eponine sat up against a building, hugging her knees, her expression hard and composed, the fire and ferocity burning in her eyes once more. After hours of sitting alone, the rain pouring down on her again, she came to realize she felt no more sorrow towards Marius, nor any hate. It was passion but not for him. What had brought it out? While she was alone, fighting back the tears and the poison in her heart, Enjolras had managed to sneak into her thoughts. Just as Marius was blind to her, she was blind to her own heart. Enjolras was everything she had ever wanted; he surpassed Marius in more ways than one including his handsome features, his strength and leadership, his devotion to France and her people, for people like Eponine. Enjolras, such a private man, the man of marble inside and out, had let her in and she so abruptly left with no explanation. She owed him that. Even if he turned her away he needed to know how sorry she was.

"Eponine!" She jumped to her feet, the blood rushing from her face. Thenardier. "Eponine you little slut there you are!"

He and Montparnasse approached her looking ready for a robbery, her father gripping a crowbar. Thenardier grabbed her by the arm, dragging her with them. "We need you tonight."

She dared not scream or try to flee. She'd be severely punished if she did. There was never a no when it came to Thenardier and work.

"I know where you've been hiding Eponine. At that schoolboy's apartment." Said Thenardier. "How much did he pay you?"

Eponine began to tremble. He knew where Enjolras lived. "He hasn't paid me anything."

'Parnasse glared at her and growled, "You bedded him!"

"And for free! After all you owe me?" Roared Thenardier, "You whore! You ugly slut!" He freed her arm only to slap her across her cheek, and she gave out a grunt.

"I never slept with him." She mumbled though neither could care less what she had said. Montparnasse grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.

"You don't deserve to lay on a bed." He said darkly, "Only against the wall. Screaming."

Eponine shuddered, shutting her eyes, cringing at his touch. The nightmare in the darkness began to flood her mind again. Damn you 'Parnasse. Damn you to Hell.

The three of them headed down the same street Eponine had so often taken to get to Enjolras's apartment. They had stopped at the corner of the street, standing within the shadows of a building as they stared up at the apartment building Enjolras resided in across the way.

Thenardier turned to Eponine, "You will tell that bourgeois whatever you see fit to get him out of his apartment. Then we will take what we want. But before that you, my dear, will tell us his apartment number."

"And if I refuse?" Eponine challenged boldly.

Thenardier had been expecting a response such as that. An evil smile curled across his face. "Then you will have sealed his fate."

Eponine grew sickly pale and began to tremble. She had no choice. She was going to betray Enjolras even more than she already had. He'd never forgive her, but that was better than having his blood on her hands.

"Apartment 17." She muttered.

"Get on going." Thenardier pushed her forward, and the girl did as she was told and went up to Enjolras's apartment. It was for him, she told herself, for his protection. She couldn't allow him to die.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just wanted to thank Arwen2712 for informing me on who the King was during the June Rebellion. I think why I got mixed up was because in the book there was a mention of Napoleon III and that got me confused. But not just to Arwen2712, thank you everyone for your wonderful comments. They've really made me so very happy. Anyway, once the story is done which won't be too long now, I'll give the rest and all of my thanks at the end. Now onward! Story time!**

A knock came at the door. Enjolras opened it to reveal a soaked Eponine, her expression solemn, her eyes filled with grief. His heart began to beat again but he could not give her a smile not that he was angry with her, no. He couldn't be happier to see her. Her expression was the cause of his failed smile.

"Eponine, what is it? What's wrong?" He pulled her inside, concern riddled across his face.

"I'm so sorry Enjolras," she said, "for everything."

"Don't apologize—" Eponine cut him off, shaking her head forcefully, her lips contorting and eyes sparkling with tears.

"It is all my fault. I should have been more careful! They gave me no choice Enjolras!"

He gripped both her arms just below the shoulders and nearly shook her. He stared down deep into her eyes, his ocean orbs piercing into her. With absolute sternness, the commanding voice of a leader, he asked her what she was talking about and what caused her to say such things.

"It's the Patron-Minette." Eponine said in between sobs, "They told me to get you out of here. They said if I don't—" She paused, unable to find the words. Enjolras could feel her shaking in his grip. "I can't... I can't let them kill you."

He released her, his eyes hard and cold.

"Enjolras," She continued, regaining her composure, "I have to get you away from here."

"Last I heard, most of the members had been arrested. How many of them are there now?" He asked.

"No you can't stand against them! You mustn't—"

"How many of them are there?" Enjolras repeated just as sternly.

Eponine stared down at the floor and bit her lip, ashamed to say but did so anyway. "Two."

"You think two men are enough to stop me?" He asked skeptically.

"You don't know them like I do." She said.

"How do you know them?" He asked, a hint if anger in his voice.

At this Eponine remained silent. She couldn't let him know about her father and Montparnasse. That would only heighten the danger he was already in. She couldn't involve him in her world.

He turned from her and went into his room only to come out a minute later with two pistols and stuffed them in the sides of his belt. "You have forgotten I'm the leader of the revolution. I'm not going anywhere."

Outside both Thenardier and Montparnasse had grown very impatient, and the rain that drenched them didn't relieve their increasing frustration.

"Where is that little whore?" 'Parnasse growled, "We should have followed her in and gotten rid of that boy."

"Are you jealous of him Montparnasse?" Said Thenardier as he fiddled with his crowbar, his eyes fixed on the apartment door.

"No one else can touch Eponine." He snarled, his eyes burning with greed and lust.

Then the door had opened with Eponine stepping through it leading the bourgeois left down the street in the rain. When the two were far enough away, Thenardier and Montparnasse took their chance and ran for the apartment. Neither of them had noticed though that Eponine and Enjolras had turned the corner into an alley to hide behind the wall as they waited for the men to appear. As they were reaching the apartment, Enjolras stepped out from behind the wall.

"Enjolras please don't," Eponine called to him in a hushed whisper but he ignored her.

Just before Thenardier and Montparnasse had made it into the apartment building, they spotted Enjolras approaching them with Eponine trailing behind him. Thenardier snarled as he swore to himself as they came face to face.

"You knew the consequences my dear," Thenardier told Eponine, "Yet you let him get involved."

"I chose to." Enjolras replied simply.

"Shut your trap, boy." Thenardier snapped and turned his attention back to his daughter, "You're going to get it. You'll scream."

"You're not going to lay a hand on her." Enjolras said, his expression fierce and frightening.

Montparnasse gritted his teeth in anger and snarled, "You're voice annoys me." He snatched the crowbar out of Thenardier's hands, "I'm going to break that pretty face of yours!"

He stepped forward, crowbar raised and ready to strike but as it came down, Enjolras caught it in his hand, turned and with the crowbar, he jabbed it into 'Parnasse's stomach. He grunted as air quickly left his lungs. Just as Thenardier was about to attack Enjolras with a few blows of his own, Eponine intervened, receiving a hard punch across her cheek. She gave out a cry and Enjolras pushed Montparnasse away as soon as it reached his ears. He then pulled out a pistol and the men froze as Eponine retreated back to Enjolras's side.

"Get out of here." He said.

Thenardier's face heated in anger, unable to admit the shame of defeat and so quickly, "You're a coward."

"And you're a gutter rat." Enjolras shot back, "Now get out of here, or I'll fill the both of you with holes."

The two men did as they were told not willing to get themselves killed for the sake of spiting Eponine, but just as they left, Thenardier glared at her, "Don't cross my path again if you know what's best for you my girl." And Thenardier and Montparnasse disappeared into the darkness.

Enjolras had taken Eponine back up to his apartment. She shook violently as she sat on the sofa, not from the rain but from her agitated nerves. Enjolras brought her a thick blanket and wrapped her in it, keeping his arm around her as she curled up against his chest, his chin on her head. Neither said anything for a few minutes. It was an eerie sort of quiet that engulfed them in comfort nonetheless.

"They weren't always so evil." Eponine muttered. "Back at the inn, my father and mother loved me and sister dearly, although I can't say the same about our little brother. Montparnasse was kind to me when we were growing up. But once the inn went bankrupt and we moved to Paris, everything went wrong. My father and Montparnasse became a part of the Patron-Minette and my brother ran away. Six months ago my mother died and two weeks after that I never saw my sister again. My father was all I had. That's how I was able to deal with the beatings. Also the income we brought in was enough to keep me from the docks and the brothel." She raised her head and stared up into his eyes, "And then I met you. You gave me hope, not just for myself but for the poor as well. You treated me like a woman, not creature of the slums." Her face became downcast again and she couldn't look up at him. "All the kindness you showed me, I felt I had to pay you back. I didn't deserve your generosity so I did what I could to repay you. But it all became too much. I was so ashamed and felt so guilty, I couldn't handle staying here anymore. And Marius wasn't making things any easier for me. I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but I'm truly sorry for all the trouble I caused you, Enjolras." She rose to her feet and looked down on the marble face of the revolutionary leader, "I don't deserve your forgiveness or the kindness you've shown me. I won't be a bother to you again."

Eponine turned to leave, but to her astonishment, Enjolras caught her hand, staring up at her with earnestness and passion.

"I don't want you to leave." He said calmly, sincerely. "You shouldn't be alone tonight and this is my last night before the revolution."

He stood from the couch and led her into his chamber, her hand clasped in his. They lay together on his bed, her body against his with his arm around her. They were so close Eponine could feel his heartbeat, oh how wonderful it felt to be in his arms.

"Before I'd known you, I preached on and on about France and her false light but never truly knew what it was like for the poor." Enjolras spoke softly, "I dreamed of the return of the republic, for the freedom of the people and closed off my heart to focus on my goal, convinced myself my heart belonged only to Patria. I began to despise the thought of falling in love, saw it as a weakness and a distraction from the revolution. The Les Amis accused me of being a man of marble, but you Eponine managed to seep into my cracks. You became my Patria in human form, resembled all I stood and was willing to die for. You mesmerized me so, but I didn't know what to do with the emotions that were so foreign to me." He paused a moment as his cheeks became roses, "There were moments when I couldn't stop myself from drawing you."

Eponine blushed at his beautiful words, "You... Drew me?"

"Mmm-hmm." He admitted shyly, "You were staring out the window of the café. You looked so beautiful even with your melancholy expression."

Eponine smiled lightly and nuzzled into the nape of his neck as he caressed her lower back.

"If it weren't for the revolution," Enjolras continued, "I would take the time to love you appropriately. I'd court you and send you letters and spoil you like you deserve, never have you endure your father again. I'd love you better than Marius could ever love his Cosette. I don't care about our social statuses. I'd give it all away, and I'd have your hand in an instant."

Eponine listened so intently to his delicate words as they were her lifeline. They filled her heart with such warmth and comfort and each word he spoke, more genuine than the last, seemed to come from his very soul.

"Enjolras..." She said softly, unable to link her thoughts with words.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and gazed into her eyes, "Eponine, marry me."

Her cheeks were crimson and her heart pounded against her ribcage yet she was too shocked to respond with her voice. She reached up to touch his lips and down his stubbled chin and jaw, and he took her fingers and kissed them tenderly. He then covered her face in sweet kisses before pressing his lips to hers.

Nothing more was said for no more words were needed though their passion continued throughout the night, hands intertwined, bodies linked, skin on skin, breathless kisses damp with promises of love. Their union was eternal. Nothing else mattered anymore. The world they knew vanished in a single instant, and they were the only ones left.

Hours had gone by and Enjolras lay sweaty and satisfied with a sleeping Eponine on top of him in his arms. Her breathing was calm and even, warm, that same stray lock curled cutely in front of her face. He kissed the top of her hair as a single thought came to his head. He knew the battle to come would be bloody and fierce; he'd be laying down his life for the country he loved. But how could he die now that Eponine was his?

The sun broke out through the streets of Paris revealing the mid morning. Today was the day of general's funeral, on the tomb of Lamarque will the barricade rise. Eponine lay warm and sleeping on her side as a gentle hand brushed across her face. Slowly she opened her eyes and smiled up at Enjolras who stood above her adorned in black pantalons with a red belt at his waist, a white chemise with a black tie loose around his neck, and a red jacket, eyes gentle as he gave her his loving smile.

"I thought I'd wake you to say my goodbye." He said simply, "What sort man would I be if I didn't say goodbye to my darling fiancée?"

"A rather cruel one," Eponine said trying to smile as she rose and rested against her forearm. "I'd be forced to follow you into the barricade to retrieve it."

Enjolras's smile faded then. His eyes became serious and his expression grave. "That's what I wanted to ask you. Please Eponine, stay away from the barricade."

Eponine frowned but he continued. "I know you want to help. But it'll put my mind at ease that you don't, that you're safe. My fight would be for not if you were killed. So please dear Eponine, stay away from the barricade. Be safe for me."

Eponine saw in his eyes the worry behind the gravity. For the sake of his heart and mind, she nodded slowly without a word.

He smiled lightly and handed her a paper he had been holding in his hands. Eponine gazed upon the picture, the portrait of herself sleeping. At the corner of it read in his lovely handwriting, "My beloved Eponine, with all my love, Enjolras."

"I couldn't resist the chance to draw you one last time." Enjolras explained as she looked up at him. "You're beautiful when you sleep."

Eponine rose to sit upright, her legs resting on the floor and the blanket falling from her chest to reveal her breasts though she didn't care as Enjolras remained focused on her expression. She appeared composed, uncaring almost, but he could see behind her mask she was afraid for him. Taking her hand in his, he knelt down to her eye level and gazed into her beautiful brown eyes. "If I had the choice, I'd never leave your side. But if I do survive the harsh battles and the revolution is through, I'll do all I can to make it up to you for my departure."

Tenderly, he stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears that managed to fall from her eyes. His heart was breaking at the sight of her tears. "The picture is a token of my unconditional love. Keep it with you."

He touched his lips to hers, gently at first, and she laced her fingers around his neck, deepening the kiss. But then he pulled away; oh how she wished he didn't. He pressed his cheek against hers as he held her close and whispered, "I am truly the happiest man. To have your love is more than I can ever wish for. I love you Eponine."

How could she let him go now? To face the horrors of the barricade and the darkness it brings. She felt her grip on him loosen and as she stared into his eyes, she told him she loved him. He smiled lovingly at her and stood to his feet. As he walked off to leave they let their hands slip from each and without a second glance, he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

At noon the rebellion had begun. They took their stand upon Lamarque's tomb, waving the flag of the revolution and of France. Shots were fired as the French army raided the parade of the funeral, killing thoughs of the rebellion and even a few innocents unknown to them. The schoolboys charged down the streets of Paris shouting "Vive la France" and "Viva Republique " and the Les Amis and the volunteers raced toward the Café Musain to build the barricade. Furniture was thrown into the streets, chairs, pianos, tables, mattresses, anything the revolutionaries could get their hands on became their barricade, and at the top of it all stood the red flag of the martyrs.

The afternoon and into the night was deathly quiet. There were no attacks from the one at noon, the streets were silent and Enjolras and the Les Amis were on edge. Grantaire who was completely drunk didn't even breathe a word to relieve the tension. Gavroche and Courfeyrac stood watch together, Courfeyrac with a musket in his hands that Gavroche had been eyeing intently, jealous that he couldn't use it and was left with a single pistol instead. Marius hadn't spoken either, his thoughts lost to the face of Cosette. But all was through as they could he the pounding footsteps of the army and with Enjolras at the lead, they had taken aim, all ready to fight, ready to die, all of them waiting.

Night had fallen and Eponine had been pacing about the apartment with the picture in her hands for what felt like hours. Her mind was filled with so many thoughts and fears and the strength, the yearning to go and fight alongside Enjolras and the Les Amis. Suddenly gunshots broke through her thoughts and her breathing hitched and her heart leaped to her throat. "Enjolras," she whispered. How could she stay away now? She couldn't let him die, not without her. Her eye caught sight of the red dress still sitting on the desk, the sous she had left on it hadn't been touched. Without thinking she swiped the dress, the coins clattering on the wooden floor, and put it on and raced out the door into the darkened streets. The rain had come again.

The French battalions were climbing the barricade, too many men for the schoolboys to fight off at once. They did all they could to fend them off, even used the torches as clubs when they didn't have time to reload their pistols and muskets. But each time they struck an army man down, another climbed the barricade in his place. Marius decided to take a chance. He grabbed a barrel of gunpowder and a torch and ascended the barricade through the rain.

"Marius don't!" Enjolras called and climbed the barricade after him.

Eponine had managed to meander her way into the barricade without attracting any attention of either parties who were too caught up in the fight to notice her despite her eye catching dress and feminine features; ah the benefits of a gamine. She quickly spotted Enjolras climbing up after Marius and saw two army men ready for them.

One enemy marksman had Marius in his sights, the boy didn't realize as he continued to scale the barricade and without thinking, even considering the other marksman aimed at him, Enjolras shot the one targeting Marius, awaiting the bullet to pierce him from the other as a flash of dark red stepped in front if him.

"No!" Eponine had come between them, her hand extended as the rifle was fired, the bullet piercing her left hand and through her back. Enjolras's eyes widened as she fell into him, catching her in his arms and his face contorting into shock and fear. He wrapped her arm over his shoulder and supported her weight with a hand around her waist and took her down the barricade. Blood poured from the holes in her hand and chest, soaking the red velvet dress, and she struggled to breathe. Enjolras held her close and did his best not to move her too much to save her from any more pain.

"Eponine, what have you done? Eponine, have you no fear? You knew the danger of the barricade. I told you to stay away from here!" Enjolras said, not realizing how fatal her wounds actually were.

"I kept the picture like you said," she rose her hand that held the now bloody portrait of her, "I couldn't leave it at the door. I promised you I'd keep it—I don't think I can stand anymore." Her legs buckled beneath her and just before she hit the ground, Enjolras caught her and cradled her in his arms.

"Let me take you to the tavern in there. Eponine, you're hurt. You need some help." And he as he spoke, he could feel her blood seeping into his clothes and coating the concrete floor. "Oh God, it's everywhere!"

As this happened, Marius had fended off the enemy with threats of blowing the barricade and the men around him. Wisely the battalion fell back and Marius descended the barricade to see Enjolras cradling a woman in his arms. Closer examination revealed her to be the street girl, Eponine, and the blood faded from his face.

Eponine gave Enjolras the faintest smile, feeling herself becoming colder as each breath left her. "Don't you fret, mon amour, Enjolras. I don't feel any pain. Here in your arms, with you so near, it doesn't hurt. You will keep me safe and close. I'm happy to die here with you."

"But you will live Eponine!" He shook his head desperately, "If I could close your wounds..."

She rested her head against his chest as she clung to him and whispered, her voice raspy, tears creeping in her eyes, "Just hold me now and let it be. Shelter me. Comfort me. Please don't leave me."

He had lost all feeling; the warmth of his blood was gone. There was nothing he could do for her and she knew it. It broke him, and he held her tight. "I won't desert you, not now my dear Eponine." He promised, "I'm here."

She became cold in his arms, clinging to life just long enough to speak with him. "That's all I need to know. Enjolras, the little boy with Courfeyrac, my brother Gavroche," she winced and whimpered and breathed in a shaken gasp, "Don't let him see me. He'll be ashamed of me if he knew."

"He won't see you." He said softly.

Eponine looked up into the darkness of the rain. A couple moments passed before she spoke again, "I'll see you soon, won't I?"

Enjolras nodded, tears pulling at his eyes and he closed them to keep them from falling.

She could feel the warm sticky blood rising up her throat, "Please don't cry." He looked down on her, her eyes shinning up at him, "To sleep in your embrace at last, I'm happy, I'm at rest. Will you promise me something?"

"Anything," he told her gently.

She struggled to speak, gasping as blood coated her lips and sent a trail of crimson down the corner to her jaw, "When... When I am sleeping, please, kiss my forehead." She smiled lightly up at him, "I'll know it."

Enjolras couldn't hold back the tears any longer as they cascaded down his cheeks, one managed to fall from his face and land on her cheek.

"Enjolras, I—I... Lo—" She winced again and coughed harshly, her blood splattering on the sleeve of his jacket, her face twisting in agony as her tears streamed down the sides of her face into her hair. She turned away from him, gasped and choked for air that couldn't come; Enjolras watched as the fire and the life faded from her eyes, shattering his heart. She was gone.

He stared down at the lifeless form of his love, placed his hand on her cheek, pulled her face to him, and pressed his lips to her forehead. When he pulled away, he took her portrait from her hand and looked up to the solemn faces of Marius, Joly, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and a few other volunteers he didn't know. His expression turn hard, composed, the face of an unfeeling leader. He walked by them all, who bowed their heads for the fallen Eponine, the first to fall upon the barricade, his barricade. He carried Eponine into the tavern, closing the door behind him, and laid her gently on the makeshift bed. He placed a hand on her pale cheek and kissed her crimson stained lips as he stroked her bloody hair. This wasn't supposed to happen. She shouldn't have died, not here, not at all. He turned when he heard the door open and found Marius standing before him. Seeing him both annoyed and angered Enjolras, having no desire to be in the presence of the man, no the boy, who caused his Eponine so much suffering.

"I sent Gavroche on an errand before she arrived." He muttered.

A letter to Cosette no doubt, thought Enjolras.

"I can't imagine what you must be feeling," Marius muttered.

Enjolras turned back to Eponine. "No you can't," he said bitterly, "Her life was cold and dark yet she was... Unafraid."

"I wouldn't know what to do if I lost Cosette. I wouldn't be able to live anymore," Marius said, "She's my everything. Would she weep for me if I were to fall?"

Enjolras's fists clenched as he faced Marius, his eyes burning with anger and hate. "How dare you speak of Cosette when Eponine is dead! You're a fool Pontmercy! An inconsiderate fool! If you opened your eyes you'd see there's a world beyond the one you built centered on that girl! You would have seen the love and devotion Eponine had for you!"

"Why does that matter when she loved you?" Marius snapped.

Enjolras growled in frustration, "You're hopeless! You're blind to everything and everyone! She loved you first! But you only caused her pain!"

"I barely knew her! And by the time I met her, Cosette already claimed my heart." He defended.

Unable to bear the sight of him, he averted his eyes back to Eponine. "Get out of here Pontmercy," Enjolras commanded with the strength of a leader.

This astounded Marius. He was about to open his mouth but decided against saying anything more. He turned and left Enjolras, ashamed after his feeble attempt to comfort him. Or was it himself?

After two hours, Joly entered the tavern to find Enjoras as he expected, sitting beside Eponine, staring at her lifeless body.

"Enjolras?"

He didn't look up, his eyes fixed on Eponine as he held her picture in his hands. "I was going to love her forever."

"Enjolras, we all are sorry for what has befallen Eponine. But there's nothing to be done now. Come outside. Drink with us. Who knows how much more time left." Said Joly, "We need you and the revolution needs its leader. Eponine wouldn't want you to abandon France."

Joly was right. He couldn't abandon his friends, the poor, the republic, not now. They all needed him more than ever, to fight for the freedom of France. Eponine would have lost her life for nothing if he gave up now. Enjolras stood to his feet and he and Joly joined the rest of the revolutionaries. He and Marius exchanged apologies, not wanting their last few memories to be bitter and sorrowful.

Grantaire's expression was a sad one. The energy around him was just as melancholy, just as depressing, and it unsettled his nerves. He swung back his wine and stared down at the half empty bottle and sighed.

"Drink with me to days gone by." He said, lifting his eyes to gaze across every face around him, "Sing with me the songs we knew." He passed his bottle as others shared the liquor they retrieved from the tavern. They all shared a drink.

"Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads." Said Courfeyrac as he rose his bottle and took a sip.

"Here's to witty girls who went to our beds." Added Combeferre.

"Here's to them, and here's to you." The Les Amis and the other volunteers said amongst each other.

Enjolras bore a solemn expression as he glanced at the faces of his friends as they indulged themselves in drinking the night away. Without noticing him, Marius had approached him with a bottle in his hand. Enjolras looked up to see him handing him the drink. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Enjolras took the bottle and nodded to him. Marius smiled. The two then turned their attention back to their friends.

Grantaire still claimed a sorrowful look as he stared down at the wet stone ground. He spoke with a grief that filled each and every heart, "We know this. We all fear to die. But once the sun rises, will the world remember us when we fall? Or can it be our deaths will mean nothing at all? Are our lives just more wasted lives?"

Everyone fell silent at his words, words from his mouth that for once held great meaning. Marius abandoned Enjolras's side to sit by himself against the wall of the tavern. Everyone took in Grantaire's words. Was he right? Were they just wasting their lives, dying for a lost cause? The people have not stirred. They of the barricade felt truly alone. That was when Enjolras stepped in although he didn't speak of the people, or of keeping faith. Instead he spoke this: "My friends, drink with me to days gone by. To the life that used to be. Let the shrine of friendship never say die; let the wine of friendship never run dry. Here's to you, and here's to me."

And everyone drank to that with smiles on their faces.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun rose red when morning came. They were the last barricade standing and to make matters worse, the rain from the night before had wet the gunpowder and they were low on ammunition. Hope was lost and as Enjolras stared at the faces of his men, he saw the fear overcoming them. He offered those who wished to leave and make their escape to do so quickly; five men left the barricade. As the Les Amis and the others discussed their next move, an idea came to little Gavroche. The corpses of the army men had dry ammunition on them. And so the little gamin wedged himself through the broken furniture of the barricade singing a tune: "Little people know when little peoples fight, we may look easy pickings but we got some bite!"

Just as he made his way through the barricade, Combeferre had caught sight of him along with the French army. "Gavroche!" Combeferre called but the gamin continued on singing, mocking the men that had aimed their rifles at him. "So never kick a dog because he's just a pup!"

A gunshot rang out and ricocheted off the ground beside Gavroche as he gathered what he could from the corpse next to him. The clever child smirked. "We'll fight like 20 armies and we won't give up!" As he sang, Courfeyrac and Joly had climbed the barricade. At the sight of Gavroche in such danger, Courfeyrac went into a panic, calling the child's name as he attempted to climb over the barricade, and Joly and Combeferre held back the terrified man. Another gunshot ripped through the air and pierced his right thigh and Gavroche gave out a stifled groan and hissed. But the relentless boy was bent on getting more resource for his friends. He limped over to another corpse, "So you better run for cover as the pup grows—" Bang! And gamin Gavroche collapsed back to the ground. He didn't stir. He was dead.

Courfeyrac and Joly raced through the secret entrance of the barricade—the enemy couldn't spot it from their positions—and Courfeyrac cursed and wept as he took Gavroche in his arms. Their enemies gave them the chance to retreat back behind the safety of the barricade and offered the men the chance to surrender.

Enjolras looked about his men, none of them willing to back down. "Let us die facing our foes, make them bleed while we can."

"Make them pay through the nose!" Joly said as he held the suffering Courfeyrac.

"Make them pay for every man!" Came Courfeyrac.

"We will stand and fight! Let others rise to take our place until France is free!" Enjolras called out as he and his men took their stand upon the barricade. _For Eponine_.

The battalion brought out the canons as bullets and sparks and smoke clouded the air. Enjolras could see from the corner of his eye the men at his side being struck down by bullets. And all too soon the canons were fired and he saw Lesgle, Feuilly, and Jean Prouvaire being blown part by the explosion and Marius shouted in pain and fell back after being shot in leg. Joly, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre ran to the doors of the homes within the barricade, banging on the doors, pleading for the owners to let them in. They were ignored as the parted windows creaked closed.

Men were carving into the baseboard of the Café Musain the words "Vive la France" and "Viva Republique". Their deaths came quick, but their words remained.

Fear racing through his mind, and unable to find Marius amongst the confusion, Enjolras ran over to Joly, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre and led them into the café with the red banner of the flag in his grip. They threw bottles and broken glass and bits and pieces of whatever they could find at their enemies, desperate to keep them at bay. When their resources were depleted completely with nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide, the men raced upstairs. The four of them stood on the second floor, trembling, whimpering in fear, waiting for their deaths. Shots were fired up from the first floor, piercing through his three friends and they collapsed. Army men had rushed up the stairs to find Enjolras still standing, fear or emotion utterly gone from his expression. Grantaire had come up from behind the army men having just awakened from drunken stupor at which they had presumed him dead. Grantaire made his way to stand beside Enjolras who for the first time since he'd known him felt great respect for the man he despised. They stood together and Enjolras raised the red cloth in his hand, proudly accepting his death. Grantaire was shot with five bullets and fell back against the wall. Enjolras was pierced by eight and fell through the window of the café as his foot caught in the broken window frame and there he dangled. The red flag in his hand, in his other he gripped a folded piece of paper, Eponine's picture that now mingled with both her blood and his. With his last breath, her name escaped his lips, and he saw her smile as he succumbed to the darkness.

_Did you see them going off to fight, children of the barricade that didn't last the night?_

There was a warmth within the darkness, a sensation that awoke his senses though he couldn't wake. Suddenly a blinding light broke through the darkness, and a black form stood within it. This couldn't be death. Death was perpetual. This was so warm, so relaxing, so filled with life.

_Did you see them lying where they died?_

_Someone used to cradle them and kiss them when they cried_

_Did you see them lying side by side?_

Enjolras could feel himself awakening, the dark figure slowly becoming a face, and the warm around him was centered on his cheek. It was a hand. And the face that owned the hand was none other than his beautiful Eponine smiling down on him.

_Who will wake them, no one ever will_

_No one ever told them that a summer day can kill_

They were schoolboys, never held a gun

_Fighting for a new world that would rise up like the sun_

_Where's that new world now the fighting's done?_

Neither said anything to each other as the world around them became clearer, the Valley of the Light, Garden of the Lord. Stretching through the streets of Paris were the barricades of revolutions past, and the martyrs that laid down their lives for France. The flags were raised, and the people sang and cheered. Eponine and Enjolras weren't standing alone. The Les Amis and Gavroche stood with them singing proud and smiling. Enjolras took Eponine in his arms as they too joined in song.

_Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me?_

_Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?_

_Do you hear the people sing, say do you hear the distant drums?_

_It is the future that we bring when tomorrow comes_

_Tomorrow comes!_

The End

**A/N: You all know if I had them live that would be incredibly cliché right? Honestly, this is the most I'm willing to do for a happy ending. Personally, I don't really like them. I'm more of a tragedy person. Anyway, I wanted to thank all of you who followed, favorited, read, and reviewed this story. It really means so much to me. You see, I wrote stories on Deviantart and even on Youtube and hard received any views and no reviews whatsoever. It was very depressing and I was convinced my stories were no good. But something, I don't know what, drove me to try to post stories here on Fanfiction so I did. I've received so many views and reviews and everything else, I'm utterly shocked. Again, thank you all so much for all the kind things you've all had to say. Also, to let you all know, I'm writing a post-barricade story of Eponine and Enjolras. It will be called Capable of Being Terrible. I will be posting it soon and I hope you guys will read it too. Thank you so much.**


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